


we can ride until we reach our kingdom

by youremyqueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Horses, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Prompt Fic, Rare Pairing, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremyqueen/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not your '<i>Sweetling</i>.' I am your queen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can ride until we reach our kingdom

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Будем ехать до самого королевства](https://archiveofourown.org/works/709225) by [darkling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkling/pseuds/darkling)



She is tall and pale and beautiful, and he is sad and small and full of hate. She'd remind him a bit of Cersei, if Cersei was kind, or Jaime, if his dear brother was at all selfless, or even of himself, if Tyrion was any of those things. He is clever, though, and takes up little space. That, it seems, is enough.

There are no special saddles for little men in her Khalasar, so he clings to his horse with short limbs and a silent, sort of hilarious plea for the beast to spare him his life. It doesn't seem to notice either way, but Daenerys does, and she watches in amusement as he holds on tight. It's not the sort of look he's used to, not a queen watching her fool dance around on stilts and laughing at the ridiculousness. It's just a woman - because that's what she is, not a child for a long while now - watching a man, and _smiling_.

"Does my misfortune bring you such entertainment, Sweetling?" he asks, words somewhat muffled by being spoken into the horse's mane.

Daenerys holds her head up higher. "I'm not your ' _Sweetling_.' I am your queen."

"My Khaleesi, you mean?" he returns.

She nods once, fixing those pale Targaryen eyes on the horizon. "That as well."

Tyrion adjust himself slightly, attempting to sit up straighter, but then the horse sneezes and the very earth seems to shake, so he rather decides against it. "I don't see why you shouldn't be all three."

She doesn't look at him, but he can still see the peaceful, proud sort of look arranging itself on her face.

"I know you don't," she says. "That's why I'm the queen, and not you."

He laughs at that, a mirthful sort of chuckle that feels odd in the blistering heat of the wasteland they're riding across. "Oh, is that why I'm not a queen? I've always wondered."

His blatant impudence is not something that is new, certainly not something that he hasn't displayed since he's been old enough to understand what the word _'dwarf'_ means, but she's one of few paragons of royalty to abide it with any sort of grace. Mostly, she's seems vaguely pleased by it. He supposes she's had to deal with sycophants and flatterers long enough to appreciate a bit of obnoxious honesty.

"You could not be a king, either," she tells him, words floating over on the scorching winds of the plains.

Tyrion smiles "Oh no, armies would never march for this face, to be sure. But you don't need a king, do you?"

"No," Daenerys says, "that's not what I need at all."


End file.
